From The Floor, Looking On
by NotTheGreatestMystery
Summary: When a young stage manager loses her grip on her current production, will she be able to get it together, or will she have to leave it all behind? Rated T for language in later chapters.
1. Lot Less Amazing

The muted cobalt curtains sway a little bit in front of my eyes. From the floor, things aren't as amazing. On that stage, the blood boils in your veins and you have the motive to perform. To impress people. Down here, no one notices you, or knows who you are for that matter. Being passed by is an interesting experience. You can feel the acid churn within your abdomen, as though you could lose your insides at any moment. Seconds pass with the ambition of a spring beetle--lively at first, but slowly dying with every tick. Word goes around that this production is going to change the school forever. I can say that it's changed _me_ forever, already. It's thirteen days until this play goes on the stage. Thirteen days of unspeakable hell, chaos, and tears left to be shed. I walk with little enthusiasm in my step over to my seat on stage left and sit down, a scowl distorting my face. The stars on the stage. They know that they're good enough and they show it. Flaunting themselves, giving little appreciation for the stage workers. I could barely be called a stage worker at all. I'm the director's sidekick. The term "sidekick", I believe, refers to the fact that I'm by the director's side at all times to be kicked around. Sidekick. I was granted this role because I didn't fit in with the idiosyncracies of the acting or vocal crews. I'm an average joe, thirteen years old, short, and not very talented at anything.

I was the least amazing person in this room.

As to what role I play, I'm everywhere. Whether it be directing the dance crew onto the stage or demanding them to shut up, I'm always somewhere. I make it backstage occasionally, only to be thrown around a bit more. By now, I thought I would be used to it. But this was a particularly bad Saturday morning for me. My best friend Aiden had brought me a stress ball in the shape of a brain and told me to keep my cool. Half an hour into rehearsals, I had lost my resolve and all of the composure I had contained was turned into a dodgeball--dodging its way away from me so that my stress levels raised to my eyebrows. Of course, the director had assigned me to dance crew babysitter duty and I was having trouble getting them to shut their mouths. Sweat beaded on my forehead and I glared at the dancers, raising my low voice at them, trying in every way possible to get them to stop making so much racket.

My attempts were futile, seeing as I was merely a stage manager.

I have friends on the dance crew, good friends, ones that I deal with on a daily basis. During rehearsals, I am their kickball. The only respect I get around here is from the director and she barely acknowledges me once an hour. Sometimes, rehearsals run for five hours. I haven't attended any of the five-hours yet, only the weekend warrior two hour battles. Here's where things get fun. While my director gets the dancers under control, I stand behind her, staying true to my duty, but losing my temper. When she's done speaking, I pull my director out onto a piece of the stage that was unused.

"I can't keep them under control. They won't listen to me. Please, fire me." I said in a hushed tone.

The director laughed at me and regarded me with her brown eyes for a few seconds.

"Fine, you're fired." She said, clearly being sarcastic.

I looked at her frantically, my eyes the color of weak tea looking directly into hers. She reached out and patted me on the shoulder, closing her eyes briefly.

"Hang on. I need you here for support. You'll be okay. I know you." She said, striding back out onto the stage to be with her stars.

I actually know the director quite well. She's my English teacher and like a second mother to me. But sometimes, her involvement with the school community frustrates me to no end. I reached up to my forehead and wiped away the beads of sweat that had gathered at my temples. I felt my insides protest their existence and took in a light breath of air. I went back to the dance crew, who were back to being loud and quite frankly, obnoxious.

"Guys...you need to be quiet. Please." I said in a broken voice, feeling my head swirl.

They continued on and I stepped back out onto the unused piece of stage and looked at my director, who had come back.

"Fire me." I said sternly, losing my respect.

The director gave me a rough squeeze on the shoulder and walked into the stage left waiting area and barked at the dancers. I felt tears well up in my eyes and tried to keep them from coming down. Unfortunately, the clear beads found their way onto my face and my dream was to be fired. I didn't want to be involved in this anymore, I never had. The director came back out, not noticing the streams on my face. She stepped up to me and paused for a moment.

"How about you go sit in the audience and let me know if you see anything wrong?" She said quietly, patting me on the shoulder again.

I nodded my head. I didn't care what she did with me anymore. I had lost my mind. I was tired of being trash. From the floor...things are always different. No matter who you are.


	2. Ordinary Miracle

Another day from the floor, looking on. I can say that things haven't gotten any better. The set is coming together nicely, with the New York skyline that I painted now on the stage. I look at the skyline and smile a little bit, knowing that my work was showcased in someway. Of course, no one would know that I had done the set. The only thing that would matter was the stars. The actors, the dancers, the vocalists. The ones who were good enough to matter. I look up at the spotlights. Red and purple for the sunset during the Cotton Club scene. I drag my feet along the hardwood floor of the stage. I was one of the first ones here, so I decided that I would walk along the stage until the stars arrived. I felt out of place on the beautiful stage. The cobalt curtains were closed behind me and Fiske waved at me from the control room. I waved back gently, getting off of the stage quickly. My presence there didn't matter. I couldn't make myself useful until some people arrived, so I went out to stand with my director.

The director was standing in the middle of the hallway, not doing much of anything, seeing as I was one of the only ones there, besides a few other members of the stage crew and the control room guys. I looked at the director and sighed gently. She was proud of her stars and she was proud of this play. It was her masterpiece, her chance to make a mark on our school. I was happy for her, but I wasn't happy for myself. The director turned around and smiled cheerily at me.

"Miss Hailey. Are you ready to run around and do a lot? Five hours we're talkin' here." She said enthusiastically.

I cringed at her use of my name. I didn't like hearing my name. The false sense of hope that I was something around these parts hurt me to an extent where I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Couldn't manage. I mustered a small smile at her.

"Oh yeah. I was thinking about it all day Monday. Gonna be great." I lied through my teeth, putting on a pretty, misleading smile.''

The director clapped me on the shoulder as some of her stars walked in the door.

"That's the spirit." She said, running over to the stars.

I sighed and walked back into the auditorium, walking down the center aisle to take a seat in the extensive rows. The teal seats glared at me and I felt a little bit dizzy as I walked along. I took a seat in the center, towards the left of the all of the teal monsters. I was used to the auditorium. I loved it. The way it smelled, the way it felt to be in it. Everything about the room made me feel great. When I was with something other than the play crew. Choir, band, it didn't matter. Just not the play. My friends tell me that I shouldn't let the play haunt me so much and just let it go. Let it roll. Be the best at what I do. I've tried, it isn't working so great for me. I looked up as the director came running into the room. Her energy was enough to make anyone feel pepped up, but it wasn't working so much for me. She came bouncing over to me.

"Alright, Wonder. Here's the deal. I'm putting you on backstage direction duty. Take the cues from me, you know the deal. Stay on your marker." She said, running onto the stage.

I sighed at the usage of my classroom nickname. Hailey Wonder. Given to me for my tendency to wear large sunglasses to hide my face. I loved this nickname, wrote it on all of my papers. But when it was used during the play...I hated it with a vengance. I stepped onto the stage, my shoes brushing quietly against the hardwood. As soon as I got backstage, a vocalist handed me her lollipop.

"Here, hang onto this for me? I'll get it back from you after this act." She said, hurrying onto stage.

I sighed angrily. My job was becoming less glamorous every minute. From crawling on dusty floors to find a mic to holding an undoubtedly germ covered lollipop. A dancer ran up to me and handed me her MP3 player.

"Keep it safe, please. Catch ya after the act." She said, skidding after the vocalist onto the stage.

I shook my head, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. Being unappreciated was hard. Very hard. Sure, I'm just a girl, I'm just a stage manager, but don't I deserve the same respect as everyone else? I felt a hand on my shoulder. The director had come to check on me.

"Hey, Hailey. You alright?" She said.

I stayed silent for a moment, my lips pursed.

"What do you think?" I snapped, glaring.

She looked at me, taken aback momentarily.

"What happened to the girl that was falling on her butt in the snow this morning? The one that was happy?" She said to me.

I looked at her, not knowing whether or not to speak my mind. I decided against it, but the thought running through my mind was complex. The girl outside that morning wasn't inside, being treated like nothing, being abused. Being beaten down.

"I don't know. I'm sorry...it's just the stress." I said, shaking my head.

The director gave me her trademark sideways smile.

"Hey, you said you wanted to be a teacher, right? This is great practice for you!" She clapped me on the shoulder.

I looked at her, my lips folded down into an unsure frown. She looked at me with sad dark chocolate eyes. Suddenly, she slipped very close to me and I felt a shiver run up my spine.

"They're idiots. Don't let them get to you. They're just a bunch of crazy kids." She whispered into my ear, before disappearing.

Just another ordinary miracle from the floor. 


End file.
